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For as far as she could remember, long hours on the road had always been soothing to Stéphanie. She used to find peace of mind in the endless miles, as a passenger with her trucker dad, then as a driver.
Even as a child, the road was her own form of meditation. She could see her father’s concentration and tried to imitate it. Eyes roaming from mirrors to road and back. Little Steph dreamed of being behind the wheel of the behemoth one day.
Laurent Lafontaine had other dreams for his second daughter. He worked long weeks and was an absent father because he wanted a better life for her and her sister. He insisted she go to College, then University so she wouldn’t have to work as hard as he did.
A lesser man may have been disappointed that he didn’t have a son. Not Larry. He couldn’t wait for the days he spent at home between runs to reset his logbook. Father and daughter spent their time together. He regaled her with tales from the long road, but he couldn’t get enough of the minutest details of her daily life. They sustained him during their separation.
In the summer, he took her with him as soon as she was old enough.
They spent hours laughing together at the endless stories they invented about the people they saw in other vehicles or sat in easy silence.
When he was struck by a virulent form of pancreatic cancer, she spent all the time she could with him. He insisted she do her schoolwork instead of just sitting there, crying. As was his habit, he asked about her life, gently easing her into coming out to him. He had known for a while that she was gay and didn’t want her to regret not telling him before it was too late. He also made her promise that she would get at least a B.Sc. even if she didn’t go further.
One evening, he asked her not to come back the next day.
“I won’t be here, baby. I’ll be gone. I want you to remember your old man for the life he lived. Who knows? If you believe all the nonsense the various religions spout, we may just see each other again. If not, I want you to remember that I’ve loved you, your sister and your mom very much. Go now. See your girlfriend, drink a toast to life and give her a kiss for me. If you happen to grab her ass at the same time, well, enjoy.”
Contrary to most, death was never taboo in the Lafontaine family, so it was not something to be feared.
Stéphanie kept her word and completed her B.Sc. in Sociology, then registered for a Masters.
She earned her Class 1 permit on her eighteenth birthday. She worked part-time for a logistics company, in the warehouse and on the road after that.
Knowing full well the demands of the long road, Steph never got in a serious relationship. She wasn’t a player by any means. She simply recognized the sacrifices her chosen life required of both partners and she had seen enough marriages fail among truckers to know she didn’t want the heartbreak.
She was always upfront about where her priorities lay, but sometimes she wondered what love would feel like.
Over the years, Steph earned the choice of the region she worked in. It was a no-brainer for her. She loved the Deep South. She could relate to the laidback attitude of the people and she loved the food. So, when the Montreal-Beaumont-Houston-Montreal route was offered, she jumped at the chance.
Like most drivers, Steph made the best of her logbook. She was paid by the mile, after all. Nature didn’t always cooperate, though. A late March snowsquall east of Toronto had slowed her too much to cross the border that evening. She didn’t mind. Tilbury was only a half-hour from the Detroit border crossing.
It would mean an early start or she’d be stuck on the Ambassador Bridge in the morning traffic. Fortunately, she could close her log to skip the time she had wasted on the road. Unfortunately, it meant a short night. Ah well…
Turning from the Subway counter with her chicken salad, Steph smiled. At the back table, a black woman’s smile was showing her pearly whites. The twinkle in her eyes a welcome sight after twelve hours behind the wheel.
“Hey, Frenchie!” The woman greeted Steph in her husky voice. “You’re late tonight.”
“Howdy, Brenda. Coming back or on your way to California?”
“We’re back from a delivery in Arizona, actually. I stopped for a bite to eat.”
“Your partner’s asleep?”
“Yep. He did the last stretch, so he crashed once we crossed. And you? Still on the Beaumont run?”
“I can’t wait to be down south. It took five hours to go through Toronto because of a few flakes. I’m surprised they didn’t call in the army to shovel the snow again.”
They laughed as they reminisced on the vagaries of crossing the metropolis while Steph ate.
“Still team driving?” Steph asked. “Last month, you said you wanted to give single a try.”
“After eight years as a team, we’re doing less of the shitty runs. So the money is good. As a single, I’d have to start at the bottom again.”
“Even though you worked for the same company illegal bahis all these years?”
“You’re kidding, right? They don’t give a shit about that. Why do you think I stay in team? We get the longer trips because we drive 24 hours a day. As a single, I’d be stuck doing the shorter trips too often. Some drivers live with 350 miles a day. I can’t afford that.”
“You’re right. I never understood why they don’t give the shorter runs to the drivers who want to be home more often and leave the long hauls to those of us who practically live in our trucks.”
They walked slowly to their trucks, still talking. When they arrived at Brenda’s rig, she took Steph’s hand and pulled her between the parked trucks.
“I thought you had to get back on the road, girl.” “Steph teased.
“I’m horny, sugar. We work so much, we hardly have time for sex we’re so tired all the time.”
“Do you want to come to my truck?”
Brenda pulled her down for a deep kiss. “I just want to come, girl.”
This wasn’t their first such encounter. They had met years before while waiting to be unloaded and had hit it off. The short chubby Southern black woman and the tall muscular Québécoise white woman found that they shared many interests, among them a similar twisted sense of humor.
As sometimes happens, they crossed paths fairly often at clients’ or in truck stops before Brenda and her partner started doing the California route regularly. A confirmed hetero, Brenda had been curious about what it was like to be a lesbian in a man’s work environment. She was surprised to find that a lot of the prejudices she had been raised with were utter nonsense.
Brenda helped her friend collect stats for her Masters thesis and invited her to her home in the outskirts of Memphis when Steph could take some days off down South.
A couple of years earlier, on one such occasions, they were sitting on her back porch, enjoying a beer on a warm spring evening. Brenda was silent for a while, watching the stars.
Steph waited for her to be ready. She had seen it coming for a while, but she wasn’t one to push. She respected her friend too much.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“You know you can ask me anything, Bren. You were never shy. Why start now?”
“”I don’t want to offend you and I don’t want you to think less of me…”
Steph reached and put her hand on Brenda’s. “I can’t imagine why you’d think I would. You’re my friend, girl.”
“I know… I wouldn’t…”
Steph got up and knelt between her friend’s legs. Gently taking her cheeks in her hands, she looked deeply in her eyes. “Is this want you want to ask?” Leaning slowly, she kissed her softly.
When Steph pulled back, she could clearly see the desire in the woman’s eyes. She leaned in so their lips almost touched, leaving the next move in her friend’s hands.
One kiss. That’s all it took for Brenda to let go of a lifetime of Baptist indoctrination. Nothing that felt this good could be as bad as she had been taught.
Following Steph’s lead, she caressed her cheek as she leaned in to kiss her, savoring the feel of a woman’s lips. She may be a butch, Bren thought, but Steph’s lips were the softest she’d ever kissed. Sure, she had fantasized about beautiful women, but nothing had prepared her for the reality of the intimate encounter.
When she touched Steph’s lips with her tongue, she was invited in. The contact was electrifying. With a moan, she deepened their kiss.
Surprisingly, running her hand in Steph’s crewcut didn’t feel like doing it to a man. Maybe because she knew it was a woman’s head she was feeling and a woman was reciprocating, running her fingers in her thick frizzy hair.
“Can I… Can I touch you?”
“You can do whatever you want, girl, but I think we should move inside, unless you want to give your neighbors a show they’ll never forget.”
“As tempting as it would be, you’re probably right.”
Steph was locking the door when Brenda molded her body against her back and wrapped her arms around her waist.
“I always admired your body, Frenchie, but I had no idea how hard you are. I love feeling your abs.”
Brenda had watched her friend’s strong body as she worked, but feeling it under her hands was something else. She ran them under her t-shirt, feeling the ripples of muscle. The soft feminine skin gradually eroded her reticence as she let her hands roam higher until she touched the bottom edge of smallish breasts. Cupping them, she pressed her own soft DDs against her back, wishing she didn’t have a bra under her top.
Steph let her friend go at her own rhythm. She wasn’t the first woman who had asked her to take her cherry, but she chose carefully before she did. Brenda was mature enough to know what she wanted and wouldn’t have regrets later.
The feeling of fondling breasts, rolling hard nipples between her fingers, knowing she was the one making a woman she admired and respected moan made Brenda’s vagina throb.
When she had Steph illegal bahis siteleri pushing back against her, she lowered one hand and unsnapped her denim cut-offs. As soon as there was room, she slipped it inside the booty shorts she found there. She ran her fingers in the trimmed bush, then on the bare skin of her pussy. She caressed it the way she liked it, pressing the lips together and massaging them up and down. Moving up, she did the same to the clit inside its hood. She felt empowered when Steph moaned louder and humped against her hand.
Pinching her nipples with one hand, she slipped two fingers in her wet vagina, curling them to caress the ridged area above the entrance while rubbing her clit with the heel of her hand.
Within a minute, Steph was moaning louder and humping frenetically, both hands on the door to give herself leverage. Within another, Brenda could feel muscles spasm on her fingers, a flood of come wet her hand.
She held on to her friend as she got a feeling that her legs were weak all of a sudden. Once the weakness passed, she turned Steph to face her, fingers still within her. With her other hand, she pulled her down so their lips could meet again.
Holding her in place with a hand behind her neck, she mimicked her finger action with her tongue.
The tall woman smiled as she was taken by the five-four woman.
As she thought, Brenda must have been fantasizing about this moment for a while, because once she let go of her inhibitions, there was no hesitation.
Her first orgasm took Steph by surprise, but it was a testament to her friend’s enthusiasm. She was also surprised when Brenda turned her around and kissed her while she kept fingering her.
Taking advantage of her long arms, she reached and pulled Brenda’s tube top over her large breasts, glad that the bra was part of it. She kneaded them, tweaking the dark chocolate-colored nipples which seemed to be directly connected to her friend’s clit because she was humping against her leg to the rhythm of Steph’s caresses.
It was a good thing that Steph was backed against the door because Brenda was bucking so hard, she would have thrown her off her feet. Try as she might, she couldn’t hold off her orgasm until her friend came, but as soon as she cried out her release, so did Brenda.
This time, they both collapsed on the kitchen floor.
Once they caught their breath, they looked at each other and started laughing uncontrollably.
“I guess that answers your question.” Steph told her.
“They say an image is worth a thousand words. Does this mean I’m a lesbian now?”
“Do you think you’ll want a cock again?”
“Sure I will. This is different and great, but there’s something about feeling a hard shaft penetrating me that’s really satisfying.”
“So you’re not a lesbian. At most, you’re bi if you absolutely must have a label. And I didn’t take your cherry yet. Do you want me to?”
“I do. I want you to fuck me. Are you… are you packing?” Brenda asked shyly, remembering a story her friend had told her.
“I thought you might want it, so I brought it in my overnight bag. Do you want me to take your cherry naturally or with it?”
“Isn’t it same thing?”
“It depends how you look at it. With my fingers, I would take you as a woman. With the strap-on, it’s an imitation of a man. Don’t get me wrong, I will make you come either way. The choice is yours.”
“I though a butch like you would want to take me with the fake cock.”
“Who says I’m a butch? Because I wear the appropriate clothes for my work environment? You wear the same clothes. Because I find short hair more practical and requiring less maintenance? You wear dreads for pretty much the same reason. Being a butch is a lifestyle and it’s not mine. Surf the web and you’ll see what I mean.”
“I’m sorry. Another stereotype bites the dust.”
“Good for you, girl. What do you say we go to your bedroom and you can decide when we get there?”
“Can you take my lesbian virginity as a woman, and fuck me with the strap-on after?” Brenda asked mock-coyly.
“Greedy bitch.” Steph laughed. “I’m yours for the night. You tell me what you want.”
As Brenda pulled her friend to her between the trucks, she grinned.
“Is this surprise for lil ol’ me?”
“I saw your rig when I parked. I thought I might as well be prepared.”
“Are you ready to be daring?”
“This late, everybody’s asleep. If you’re game, I am. Unless you want to go to my truck.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Too few short hours later, Steph bought two large coffees. She downed the first one while doing her inspection. When she pulled out of the truck stop, she was feeling almost human. The cold morning air had done much to revive her.
Steph was a bit later than planned, but the line at US Customs wasn’t too bad. For once, things were moving along. She caught the front end of the morning traffic in Detroit, though.
Six hours later, she stopped at the Love’s in Sparta, KY, for a shower and a Subway. After eating, canlı bahis siteleri she was still drowsy so she opted for a one hour power nap. It helped in more ways than one since it delayed her enough that she missed the evening rush hour in Nashville.
She was early enough in Fairview, TN, to take the time for a full meal. Walking in the store, she was happy to see her friend Abigail.
In a business where the turnover was enormous, Abi was the exception. She had gone from cleaning the showers at the age of eighteen to Manager at thirty, all in the same truck stop.
They first met the summer before Steph started working on her Masters.
They stayed friends through Abigail’s heartbreaks and her failed marriage. Steph did her best to stop as often as she could. In recent years, with text messaging, she could now let her friend know when she would be in town and update her eta during the afternoon.
That day, Abi waited for her so they could eat together. She drove them to a local restaurant for some privacy.
Steph loved sweet ice tea and could only get the real thing in the South. If she could, she’d move south of the Mason-Dixon Line. For the people, the food and the climate. The order of preference depended on the feel of the moment.
So she indulged in a plate of pulled pork with the local BBQ sauce, candied carrots, greens and biscuits. For dessert, she had fried apple pie à la mode.
As usual, they caught up with the latest news, but that was quicker done that in the first years of their friendship since they kept in touch regularly thanks to the modern communication technologies.
Abigail, once again, swore off men after catching her latest flame in bed with her twin sister. Steph couldn’t help but laugh when she told her he had the gall to plead that he couldn’t tell them apart. Abigail had natural strawberry blonde hair. Her sister’s was platinum blonde thanks to Miss Clairol.
“I’ve been thinking…” Abigail began.
“About me, I hope.” Steph teased.
“As a matter of fact, yes. Over the years, I’ve seen you drivers coming and going. I talk to you. I even have many trucker friends. But I have no idea what it’s like on the road except for your stories.”
“I understand. I often try to explain the life to sedentary people, but you can’t really put it into words. A lot of it is a feeling.”
“I want to ask a favor from you.”
“Ask away. If I can, it’s yours.”
“I have some vacation time coming soon. I’d like to ride with you for a week or two. As an incentive, if you want to take a week off down here, a friend offered his New Orleans house to me in August. You could park your truck near your client in Texas and I’ll drive us there. We could stay for as long as you can endure being at the same place.”
“It’s a job, Abi. If the company is good, I can live in one town however long I want. As for riding along, I’m not sure you realize what you’d be getting yourself into. It is a job and I work hard. You’d be bored in a couple of days at most.”
“I could bring some books. We could talk. I’d keep you company.”
“You’ll talk twelve to fourteen hours a day?” Steph laughed.
“That’s exactly my point. I’d like to experience what it’s like. Obviously, I can’t drive, but I could get the feeling you talk about.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone ride with me before. Can I get back to you on this?”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I was just asking.”
“Thanks. How long a heads up do you need?”
“This is last year’s vacation. If I don’t take it before June, I lose it. I’m all ready to go. Two days would be more than enough.”
“Let me think about it.”
That evening, Steph lay in her bunkbed, thinking.
Her truck was her private haven, her refuge from the world. It had been the subject of her dissertation, in fact. She had been tempted to expand it in a PhD research, but thought she had gone as far with it as she wanted to.
The only time she invited people in it was to talk or for sex. Try as she might, she couldn’t visualize what it would be like to essentially have a roommate. Moreover, one that would be with her 24/7.
Looking around, she tried to picture someone else’s things lying about in her space. She tried to imagine listening to someone breathe, or even snore, in the night. Her personal space reduced as the top bunk would have to be lowered so the invader could sleep.
Steph laughed at the image. She had spent the night plenty of times in women’s beds, cuddled against their warm bodies. She loved the way her breathing instinctively synchronized with theirs as they slipped into slumber together.
This would be different, though. Abigail had been a good friend for years and she was strictly hetero. There would be no hanky-panky, obviously. She didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship for a booty call.
When her alarm went off, she found that she was still tired. At first, she thought she hadn’t caught up on her sleep following her short night in Tilbury, but when she changed her boxers for the booty shorts she wore during the day, she saw that they were soiled with come. That hadn’t happened to her in a long time. She washed up as best she could, but she was troubled as she went through her pre-departure routine.
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